Magic Prohibited
by Laume
Summary: Written for JanAq's Potions&Snitches contest. The challenge: Harry is wearing a magical inhibitor that only Snape can remove. AU, takes place in the beginning of Harry's third year.
1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore twinkled merrily at the younger wizard who stood sulking by his desk.

"Come on, Severus, I will only be gone a few days. I promise to be back in time for the Sorting. Surely dealing with the few owls that might drop in…"

"And Potter," the Potions Master sneered, "You expect me to pick up Potter, don't you? Oh, I know you, Headmaster. You didn't mention it, thinking I would discover this slight oversight of yours while you were comfortably away. You promised Potter to pick him up from his relatives tomorrow. I suppose you expect me to take care of this as well?"

"Why, Severus, now that you mention it…" the blue eyes twinkled even more.

The tall wizard scowled. "Why can't the Weasleys pick him up?"

"Now, now, my boy, you know perfectly well that they are still in Egypt, or Harry could have joined them weeks ago."

"He'll be here, in the castle, with all sorts of mischief to get into!"

The old Headmaster stood up. "I must be leaving, Severus. I'm sure you will handle every situation admirably."

With that, Dumbledore activated a Portkey, leaving a fuming Potions Master in his office.

Ssssssssssssss

Harry Potter thanked his lucky stars that he had sent Hedwig away before the Aunt Marge fiasco.

Uncle Vernon had been SO angry. Harry never got a chance to flee when the large hands grabbed him, slapped him around and tossed him in the small room, promising real pain when the situation was dealt with.

Harry listened through the cracks as the Magical Reversal Squad punctured Aunt Marge and talked to Uncle Vernon, who assured them that Harry had been grounded, the likes of it would NOT happen again and would the freaks please leave his home now.

Then he had come up the stairs.

And so Harry had been locked without food in the small room for over two weeks now. If Aunt Petunia remembered, he was let out to use the bathroom and take a bottle of water. If she forgot – well. Harry had been practicing survival techniques his entire life.

His Uncle had come back twice after that night to reinforce his opinion on Harry's little accident. His left eye was swollen shut. When he did manage to open it, the orb looked bloodshot. He didn't sleep well. The bruises prevented him from laying comfortably.

With his relatively good eye Harry checked off another day on his calendar. Only three more days until September first. He was vaguely aware of the doorbell ringing but dismissed it as one of Uncle Vernon's clients.

At least he had gotten most of his homework out of the way as soon as he got back from Hogwarts, and despite the pain and fatigue he had managed to finish his essay on witch hunting. He did have to rewrite it, though, since he absentmindedly had scribbled down 'Harry hunting' a few times.

Why was Uncle Vernon yelling at his clients like that? Aunt Petunia wouldn't like it.

A dull thud and the screaming ended. Harry shook his head and went back to rewriting his essay.

Suddenly all locks on his door sprang open at once. That was strange. Uncle Vernon knew exactly which key went to which lock but all at…

"POTTER!"

That sounded like Professor Snape. Fortunately his Potions Essay was done. On all potions that used Belladonna. He'd found an old book of Dudley's and even added some extra Muggle information. If that didn't score at least an E…

"POTTER!"

Blearily he looked up. His glasses had broken weeks ago.

"Y-Yes, Pfro – Professor?"

sssssssss

What on earth had that filthy Muggle done to the boy? Potter could be annoying, he would be the first to admit that, but beating up a child like this was unacceptable. However, now was not the time. The sooner they were back at Hogwarts, the better.

"Where are your possessions, Mr Potter?"

"Cupboard under the stairs," the boy muttered, "Floorboard.."

With a roll of his eyes and a few deft flicks of his wand, trunk and supplies were reunited, shrunk and stowed in a pocket.

"Come along, Potter. We are going to Hogwarts."

He turned to stalk out the door, but a sudden light made him reconsider. Before his astonished eyes, the boy changed. Bruises faded, bags under eyes disappeared and the small figure even filled out some.

"Yes, sir, I'm coming," Potter answered calmly, "Are we taking the Floo, sir?"

Gulping once, Snape responded, "No, Potter, we will Apparate to the Hogsmeade Station, where a carriage is waiting to take us up to the castle."

It had to be a side effect of prolonged accidental magic. Potter probably had to cover up so many injuries over the years that the accidental magic had turned into a spell-like ability. The Potions Master wondered if it were glamour charms or actual healing spells.

The journey to the castle was quick enough. Once in the Entrance Hall, he motioned for the boy to follow him.

"Where am I to stay, sir?"

"Your dorm, of course. Don't expect the whole staff to entertain you, Potter. You will eat meals in the Hall with us. For Merlin's sake, stay out of trouble for at least a few days. Here we are, the infirmary."

Harry halted. "But I don't need…"

"I'll be the judge of that. In."

With his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face, Snape watched the proceedings.

"Well, Harry, apart from being a bit thin you are fine. A few hearty meals and plenty of snacks should help."

"What?" Snape just caught himself before his jaw dropped to the floor, "Poppy, he had a black eye and bruises all over him. Surely they aren't all gone now? Have you cancelled any glamouries?"

The nurse nodded. "Really, Severus, you must be mistaken. Now, I have other things to do. I will see both of you at dinner."

His jaw clenched, Snape stalked towards Gryffindor tower, Harry nearly running to keep up.

"The Password is," Snape sneered a bit, "Balderdash."

"It certainly is, dear," the fat Lady giggled, sipping what looked suspiciously like Ogden's finest from a teacup. She swung open.

sssssss

The Potions Master stalked through his rooms trying to focus on something, anything!

"Stupid boy…brat…why would I care…" he muttered, "foolish woman, not to believe me."

His anger at the boy diminished. Clearly concealing his wounds from outsiders was something he had been doing for many years. It was most likely at best a semi-conscious effort. But his colleagues! Surely someone ought to have noticed something off with the child?

The boy refused to talk, hadn't said anything to Poppy over the years and not even now, when he know the Potions Master, of all people, would back him up.

"Well then," the wizard finally muttered with the tiniest of smirks, "if we can't do this the Gryffindor way, we'll just have to take the Slytherin route…"

sssssss

Harry hesitatingly made his way to dinner that evening. Fortunately, he arrived at the same time as Professor Sprout, and she smiled kindly at him.

"Hello, Harry. It's still the holidays, so it's alright if I call you Harry, right?"

"Of course, Professor. I ah…"

"Oh, yes, feeling a bit shy at having to eat with your teachers, aren't you? Well, don't worry – just come with me, we'll find you a nice spot to sit."

Soon Harry found himself sitting between Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch, who happily engaged him in a Quidditch discussion. While they talked, the other professors trickled in. The staff table was replaced by an oval table, allowing for easier conversation. Professors McGonagall and Sinistra were next. Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey came in, discussing some creature Hagrid was caring for.

Finally Professor Snape stalked into the Hall, robes billowing behind him. He was accompanied by the Muggle Studies teacher, Victor Fairchild.

"What was taking you so long, Severus?" Professor Flitwick asked, "you didn't mention any plans to brew today."

"I wasn't, Filius," Snape replied smoothly, "I ran into Victor and we had a discussion about Muggleborn students."

"Did you, now?" Sprout smiled as she served herself some grilled salmon and lightly seasoned potatoes.

"I've been doing a study," Fairchild explained, "about the careers of our Muggleborn Alumni. Severus here seems to think magic is addicting."

"It is," Snape snapped, "how many Muggleborns go back to live among Muggles? The Ministry usually has to deal with a few cases of underage magic each summer, mostly from Muggleborns unable to control themselves. Magic is addicting. I bet that none of our students would be able to live without their ability to perform magic, meagre though those abilities might be, for even a week."

"That is ridiculous, Severus. Most Muggleborn students perform no magic at all in summer."

Snape sneered at Hooch. "Because they are not in a magical environment. But how many would be able to resist using magic HERE?"

Fairchild was eagerly jotting down notes on his napkin with a Muggle biro. "You do have a point, Severus, I should look into this. You, boy – Harry, isn't it?"

Harry looked up from his mashed potatoes in surprise. "Yes, sir?"

"Are you taking Muggle Studies this year?"

"I…" he looked around anxiously, "I haven't decided yet…I was thinking Divination and Arithmancy…"

"Take my word for it, Harry," Professor Sprout said, "Don't bother with Divination. Muggle Studies or Ancient Runes is a much better option."

Fairchild beamed. "Do take my class, and help me with this project for extra credit."

"Victor, Potter isn't Muggleborn," several staff-members reminded the over-eager professor.

"He is Muggle - raised, which is practically the same when it comes to this…project," Snape said disinterested, taking a roll from a basket and slicing it open as if it were a delicate potions ingredient.

"Just a few weeks – say, three or four. What do you say, Harry? For extra house-points and a better grade?"

"But..but I haven't decided if I'm taking your class yet!" Harry protested, "and my other classes? How am I supposed to go to class when I can't do magic?"

"See?" Snape motioned vaguely in Harry's direction, "he's backing down already at the very mention of not being able to do magic. Addicted."

"Am not," Harry reacted impatiently.

"Such an extensive vocabulary," Snape drawled, "alright, Potter. I would be willing to excuse you from the PRACTICAL part of my class for those weeks. You'll be doing extra theory instead. Does that solve your little dilemma?"

McGonagall looked pensieve. "It would be interesting, and my class doesn't start on the practical right away."

"Mine does, but I'm sure that practicing the wand motions and incantations with a pencil…" Flitwick squeeked, eager to help his colleague.

"My class doesn't require magic," Sprout said, and Vector nodded in agreement.

"Quidditch season doesn't start for another six weeks," Hooch nodded.

Fairchild was practically bouncing in place. "Wonderful, wonderful!"

"But…Divination…" Harry tried, confused.

"I'm sure Sibyl will be inconsolable," Snape said dryly, "it's a useless subject, Potter. While I would think Runes would be a better choice than Muggle Studies, it is at least a class that will teach you something decent."

"How do you think we should go about this?" Fairchild asked Snape, "to prevent accidental magic as well? Or the magic one uses for flying or brewing?"

"I suppose a magical inhibitor," the Potions Master replied, savouring a bite of fish, "I have one laying around somewhere."

"Oh, excellent! Harry, go with Professor Snape after dinner to get it fitted. I bet St Mungo's will be highly interested in the results of this study."

The Professors excitedly talked amongst themselves and some betting even seemed to be going on. Harry sat back a bit bewildered. What on earth had just happened?


	2. Chapter 2

After dinner, Professor Fairchild practically shoved Harry into Snape's arms, going on and on about how Harry would prove Snape wrong and how he would need to meet up with him every day. Harry, still dazed from the strange events at dinner, let himself be led to the dungeons by the Potions Master.

Inside the wizard's quarters, Snape rummaged through his desk. Harry looked around. The room was surprisingly much lighter and friendly than he would have expected from the dungeon rooms of his frightening teacher.

"Come here," the man ordered.

Harry approached. Snape had a silver circlet in his hand, which he fastened around Harry's head. It glowed warmly for a moment, tickled, and seemed to melt into his skin. Harry reached up and touched his head. He could find no trace of it.

"There. It worked. Try to cast a spell."

Obediently, Harry took out his wand. "Lumos."

Nothing happened.

"LUMOS!"

Nothing.

Snape nodded in satisfaction. "Still in excellent shape. Now, Potter, the timer is set for three weeks, and only I can remove it before then. I suggest you start reading ahead, because your inability to actually brew will be compensated with the theory you'll be absorbing."

He handed Harry a small book.

"This is a book of all common potions ingredients and how they interact. Start studying it. I will quiz you on it during class."

Harry opened the book, and suddenly noticed something off.

His eye wouldn't open. Reaching up, he gingerly touched it.

"OUCH!"

Snape had to hide his instincts to douse the boy with healing potions immediately when all bruises returned and Potter returned to his shrunken, emaciated form.

"What…what did you do?" the child's voice quivered, "what happened?"

"The inhibitor blocks ALL magic, Potter," Snape said softly, his voice devoid of malice now, "including your astonishing, but utterly useless ability to hide your injuries."

"NO! Take it off, take it off, now, please!"

Harry started grabbing in his hair, trying to find the circlet and rip it out of his head if needs be, but Snape simply took the wrists with unexpected care. Most likely because both wrists looked bruised and so thin they might snap.

"No, I will not remove it."

Suddenly it dawned on Harry. "You – you did it on purpose! You sought out Professor Fairchild…"

"Yes," Snape admitted calmly, "You would not tell Madam Pomfrey and she did not believe me."

Harry looked around in sudden panic. "I – I'll tell them you did it. I didn't have bruises before dinner but I do now after I was alone with you, they'll make you remove…"

"Don't be stupid, Potter. Those bruises, although severe, were clearly inflicted over the course of several weeks. I did not see you before today. Even if that were not the case, Madam Pomfrey has ways of determining the age of any injury."

Suppressing a sob, the boy steadied himself on the desk.

"Do you want to go to the Hospital wing?" Snape asked.

"No," the young wizard muttered, "what does it matter? I have to go back anyway. I know what you are trying, Professor, but it won't help. The Headmaster will send me back next year no matter what."

"When he sees…"

"He knows, alright? He's known all along and doesn't do a thing."

Snape ruthlessly suppressed a sudden flashback to his own childhood years at Hogwarts. Then he shook his head. Surely Dumbledore couldn't be that…callous about the Golden Boy's safety.

"If that's what you want, Potter, go up to your tower, then. Good luck these three weeks. And if I may – take Muggle Studies, Arithmancy and Runes. Muggle Studies won't take much time since you know all the material, Divination is useless and Hagrid will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures this year."

A tired, pained smile crossed the pale face. "That's nice."

"It is," Snape found himself agreeing, "Hagrid is a good man, but his views on what is harmless and what is dangerous are somewhat distorted. I would not take that class if I were you. You can easily read up on the material yourself."

"Please, Professor – take it off," Harry sank down into a chair, "Please. You made your point."

"No, Potter. I will not."

ssssssss

Snape wasn't surprised when Harry didn't make it down to breakfast the next morning. He had, discreetly, asked a House Elf to warn him if the boy was in trouble, but apparently Potter had just chickened out. At lunch he was absent as well, and now the other teachers were worrying a bit about the boy. They'd simply assumed he had slept through breakfast – adolescents were known for their irregular sleeping habits after all.

Dinner rolled around, and a House Elf had been dispatched to inform Mr Potter that he was expected in the Great Hall.

When the boy entered, all conversation died down and gasps were heard from most of the female staff.

"Dear sweet Merlin, child, what happened to you?"

Poppy Pomfrey launched out of her chair, examining Harry thoroughly.

"Bruises, black eye – lost twenty pounds since yesterday…" she looked up in suspicion. "Would you care to explain how the boy suddenly got all injuries you claimed he had, Professor Snape?"

Most other staff members were now shooting dirty looks at the Potions Master until Hagrid stood besides him.

"Sev'rus wouldn't do this to 'Arry," he said calmly, "Dursley do this t'ya, 'Arry?"

Harry hung his head and didn't respond. Poppy cast a spell to heal his eye, but was shocked when it fizzled.

"How on earth is this possible?"

"The inhibitor," Victor Fairchild groaned, "You put the inhibitor on him, Severus."

"That must be it," the Potions Master agreed calmly, ignoring the one – eyed glare Harry gave him.

"The Glamourie you said he had – the injuries…" the nurse muttered, "You have to take the inhibitor off him, Severus, I can't treat him like this."

"No," Snape sat down at the table.

Chaos ensued.

"You wouldn't leave a child like this, would you, Severus? He's HURT!"

"You HAVE to release it. We didn't count on this when we made those plans yesterday."

"I'll cancel the project, I don't want the boy to suffer…"

"The timer on the inhibitor is set to three weeks," Snape interrupted, "until then, I suggest you give him Muggle medicin, Poppy. I also suggest taking pictures and sending them to both Wizarding and Muggle Child Protection Services."

The nurse nodded. "I most certainly will. Come along, Harry."

sssssssss

Harry didn't mind the hospital wing very much this time. The gawking of the staff had unsettled him, and he felt tired. After Madam Pomfrey had brought him dinner, he had slept through the night, aided by the Muggle painkillers she had given him.

The next morning, Albus Dumbledore entered the infirmary.

"Well, Harry, it seems you broke a record. The first student to land in the hospital wing before term even started."

Harry dutifully smiled.

The nurse pulled the Headmaster aside. "Albus, those Muggles must be arrested. He cannot go back to them."

The Headmaster shook his head. "He is safe there, and they are his family. They may not be as kind to them as we would like, but I will not believe they hurt the boy. There must be another explanation. Meanwhile, the fact that he covered them up with magic is impressive, and shows he is indeed very powerful. Perhaps these events are a blessing."

With that, he left the infirmary, leaving a gob smacked nurse behind.

ssssssss

Ron and Hermione had apparently left the feast early to visit Harry in the infirmary.

"The trainride was wicked, mate," Ron said, still a bit paler than usual, "there was a Dementor on the train. It nearly got us, but Professor Lupin woke up and…"

"Lupin?" Harry asked.

"Yes, our new Defense teacher, Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione answered. So far, she had only been watching Harry in concern.

"The Headmaster said you had an accident, Harry, but that's not true, is it?" she frowned, "your bruises – they have an odd shape…"

Ron creased his eyebrows too, now. "And last year we had to rescue you in Dad's car – did those Dursleys do this?"

" Vernon," Harry muttered, "you wouldn't have seen if it weren't for the bloody inhibitor."

At the raised eyebrows, he told them the entire story.

"..and now Snape refuses to take it off. Soon enough the whole Wizarding world will know pathetic Harry Potter can't even stand up to a Muggle."

He turned around and hid his face in the pillow, ignoring the pain. He just didn't want to see his friends anymore, he didn't want to see anything anymore.

Bloody Snape.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N A short chapter, but I figured I'd better post this and keep people happy than let you wait for a longer chapter that may take a few more weeks. **

Madam Pomfrey reluctantly let Harry leave the infirmary two days later. She wasn't used to letting a student walk out with the kinds of bruises Harry still bore, but admitted that with the Muggle painkillers, there was little else she could do for him.

"I do understand why Severus is doing this," she sighed, "I should have listened to him. I am sorry, Harry. I never realized…"

The boy shrugged and winced. "Snape says my accidental magic developed into something I can subconsciously control."

He ignored the soft correction, "Professor Snape, Harry," and swallowed his dose of painkillers.

"He thinks this inhibitor will make people aware, but it won't matter. It won't matter because the Headmaster will send me back anyway."

The witch didn't respond, but privately she swore at Albus's inexplicable refusal to see what was right in front of him. He'd done it with Tom, with Severus and many other children. And now with Harry.

sssssss

Severus Snape was angry. No, he was furious. Strike that. He was seething with white-hot rage.

That insufferable old fool!

He had always thought, throughout his youth and the years he taught, that the Headmaster had a soft spot for Gryffindors. Since he was a Slytherin with a bad reputation, he chalked the injustices he had suffered up to that. He owed the old man, there was no denying it.

Potter, however – Potter, the Golden Gryffindor. The mere mention of neglect should have caused the entire Order to reassemble and storm the Dursley home, yet even now, with the injuries plain to see, Dumbledore ignored, waved away, or plainly denied that the Dursleys treated their nephew with anything less than gentleness and adoration.

How could someone so old and wise be so blind? Snape shook his head, and then suddenly stood still as if struck by lightning.

Blind – or scheming? He had to gasp for breath when the implications of that line of thought hit him. WAS the Headmaster blind? Or did he PLAN for Potter to be abused?

Mentally chastising himself for thinking such horrible thoughts about the revered old wizard, Snape dove into his lab and started brewing with wild abandon, intent on distracting himself.

Albus Dumbledore, Light Wizard extraordinaire, powerful, lovable and a bit naïve. Or scheming, ruthless, manipulating? He thought back. It had seemed a bit suspicious that the all knowing Headmaster was unaware both times Potter got into trouble. First with Quirrell, then with the Chamber. Despite Snape's own constant warnings, the Headmaster had not kept a closer eye on Quirrell.

No. It couldn't be true. The same man who had gently pulled up the sobbing boy that had thrown himself at his feet once, stammering his confession, the same man who made that boy Head of Slytherin – no, that man who believed in second chances could never do something so…

Yet how had he ended up in that position, at the Headmaster's feet in the first place? Lucius and the Dark Lord had been there for him after the Marauder's pranks got more and more out of hand in their final years. Dumbledore had ignored him back then, had punished him and rewarded his nemeses. Would he even have needed a second chance if he hadn't been so very alone, so alone that when Lucius offered him support, his desire for it overrode his Slytherin good sense that Malfoy was not to be trusted?

Gratitude had blinded him for a very long time to the Headmaster's mistakes, going so far as to make himself believe that he had, in fact, been solely to blame for the Shrieking Shack incident and the horrible afternoon following the OWLs. Even if Dumbledore was truly ignorant of human nature – something he did not believe of someone who had been observing said nature for over a century and a half – this incident with Harry should have opened his eyes.

The boy would not go back to the Dursleys, no matter what Albus said. He would make sure of it.

sssssssss

Harry tentatively walked into the Potions classroom, where professor Snape was waiting for him already.

"Professor Fairchild seems elated with his research," the elder wizard remarked, "he sings your praises throughout the staff room."

The boy shrugged and sat down. His injuries had mended, but the malnutrition and his generally bad condition tired him easily.

"You are angry." Not a question. When there was no response, Snape continued.

"Not that I blame you. The Headmaster…"

"It's not about the Headmaster," Harry interrupted, his voice tired but determined.

"Not? The Dursleys then? I assure you, if you wish to retaliate, many would help you."

"I'm not mad at them. Well, no more than usual. I thought, when you came to get me, that you would help me."

Snape halted in his tracks. "I did."

"No," Harry shook his head, "you did not. You are just like the Headmaster."

That made Snape start really bad. "I am not!" he snapped.

The boy leaned back. "The Headmaster makes decisions about my life without consulting me. From the moment my parents died, he took me and didn't allow any interference with his plans, no matter what it would do to me, or what it would cost me. You did the same thing. You had it in your mind that I needed to tell or show what Vernon did to me, and instead of talking to me you pulled this stunt," he waved at his head where the inhibitor was likely buried, "to force me. Why should I trust YOU any more than the Headmaster?"

Harry had been playing with a Muggle stress ball – Snape was clued in that he was VERY angry when he clenched the ball so tightly it ruptured and sand trickled onto the floor.

"Harry…"

"NO! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF BEING PASSED AROUND LIKE A SET OF SECOND-HAND ROBES! YOU HATE ME AND NOW YOU DID THIS!"

The child trembled, clearly exhausted, "Everyone assumes they have some sort of authority over me, everyone! No one does that with Ron. The only ones that can tell Ron what to do are Mr and Mrs Weasley, but everyone gets to order _me_ around. People I have never met turn out to be allowed to make decisions for me. Even Professor Lupin tries that. He's nicer about it than most, but he still does. Look how those decisions turned out for me. I imagine my mum and dad would be furious if they knew, but they're not here to protect me, from any of you."

Resignation returned to his voice. "All I wanted, all my life, was to be treated decently, like a normal human being. If it is arrogant of me to believe I deserve that, then I'm content to be arrogant. Maybe next time Voldemort wants to kill me, I won't resist so hard and simply go back to my parents. That would make the Dursleys happy, at least."

Snape sat stunned, unable to respond as the boy hobbled out.

"Well!" he muttered after a while, "the little ingrate..."

The lack of indignation he felt, and the ample waves of guilt made it hard to go off on one of his anti-potter rants, however.

It was most frustrating.


	4. Chapter 4

Minerva McGonagall walked into the Potions Masters office. Snape looked up. This wasn't as uncommon an occurrence as many students thought. The two were competitive but on friendly terms.

"I am worried about Potter, Severus," the witch immediately started as she sat down, "I should have pressed Albus more back then, when I watched those despicable muggles all day before he dropped Harry off with them. What are we to do now?"

"Well, I have been told by the boy in no uncertain terms that he is very angry with me and will not trust me ever again, so my involvement in this has ended," Snape turned back to his essays.

"You have been acting foolishly, true – but other than the rest of us, you have actually been acting. Your intentions were good, and in time the boy will come to see that if you keep involved."

"Minerva, he said some things…I had to admit he was right. The boy needs space, and time to decide on his own future."

The witch sighed. "Severus, he needs someone reliable. Albus is not that. Nor are we. You may have made a huge mistake, but the boy yelled at you. What does that tell you?"

"That he was angry?" Snape supplied.

"That he felt safe enough to yell at you. That means his trust in you is damaged, but not completely shattered. He trusts you not to intentionally abuse him, at the very least."

Snape sighed and rubbed his face. "The only way it would work is if I could get people to back off and not interfere with the boy's life…Albus especially…"

McGonagall tapped her chin thoughtfully. "That will require some sneaking about, but I think I can persuade Amelia Bones to help if you need it."

"Undoubtedly the Weasleys or Lupin will immediately apply for guardianship should he be taken from his relatives," Snape sneered.

"Does that bother you?" the transfigurations professor asked softly.

Snape nearly growled. "Of course it does not bother me!"

"Watch your tone, young man!" McGonagall shook her head, "You try to reach the boy, and I will try to keep Albus ignorant."

sssssssss

Lupin watched as Harry wrote down the spells used in class. The boy looked frail and sickly, not at all like James. His large green eyes – or eye – were Lily's, but the mothers eyes had been full of life, laughter and compassion. Her sons eyes were far too serious, haunted and miserable.

"Harry. The spell to repel a Boggart?"

"Riddikulus, sir."

Harry had not been present at the practical lesson where, apparently, Neville's Boggart had turned into Snape. He had felt a little sorry for the Professor, even though he was still furious, when rumors of a dress, vulture hat and handbag began circulating.

His injuries were healing now, thanks to the muggle medicin the nurse gave him, and he felt alright. Just helpless and angry.

"Correct. Stay after class for extra work instead of the spells the rest of you will practice for Monday's lesson."

Harry slowly approached after the lesson. Potions was next, he wouldn't mind missing that lesson.

"So, how are you keeping up?" Lupin asked.

"Well enough, sir. I practice a lot without a wand. Only a week and a half more."

"James wouldn't have let Snape trick him like that," the Professor blurted out without thinking.

Harry startled. "You knew my father? Trick him?" Then the implications hit.

"I – I couldn't help…"

Lupin waved his hands frantically. "I know, I know, I didn't mean to imply that. Forget I said it. Here, let me give you a pass…"

With that, Harry found himself outside the classroom. Numbly he stared at the scrap of paper. Lupin had known his father. His father wouldn't have been tricked. Or so Lupin said.

"My father was never in my situation," Harry thought angrily, "how dare that man say what he would or would not have done! I am not my father!"

Forgetting all about Potions, he angrily walked to the lake and started throwing pebbles into the water.

Meanwhile in class, Hermione and Ron were getting frantic.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione whispered, "Professor Lupin didn't keep him that long, surely?"

"Miss Granger. Where is Mr Potter?" The menacing figure of the Potions Master loomed over the girl.

Hermione gulped. "Professor Lupin held him back after class, sir. I – he will be here shortly, I'm sure…"

But at the end of the class Harry still hadn't shown.

"Lets go up to the tower," Hermione suggested, "he may have gone there."

Snape waited until the class had left – the last class of the day – and snapped his fingers. A House Elf appeared.

"Do you know where Harry Potter is?" he asked.

"Harry Potter is being by the lake, Professor Snape sir."

"Thank you," he threw out before stalking off.

At the edge of the lake he did find Harry. Unsure how to proceed, he settled for standing next to the boy.

"You missed class."

Harry didn't react surprised. He only shrugged. "Not like I can do much."

"I owe you an apology, Mr…Harry." Snape wrestled out.

Harry looked up in surprise.

"I should not have tricked you. I am not a patient or kind man. I acted upon impulse and I hurt you. I regret that. I shall endeavour to regain your trust, if you will give me the opportunity."

The boy shrugged. "Why should I? You will do whatever you want anyway."

Snape shook his head. "I am a stubborn man, Harry. I cannot promise to change my ways all at once, however, I will attempt to do so over time. Meanwhile, I need your help. I want to find a way to keep you from the Dursleys and give you a single guardian."

"So I won't be tossed around anymore? But who would want me?"

Suddenly the shoulders sagged some more. "The Headmaster will never allow it, though. What gives him the right to mess in my life anyway?"

Snape smirked. "None, Mr Potter. None whatsoever. He is neither your guardian nor a relation of yours."

Harry looked up, a little bit of hope in his eyes. "So…if I found a suitable guardian…and get him approved by the Ministry, I suppose…only the Dursleys would have to give permission?"

"Since they ARE your relatives, yes. I don't anticipate many problems there, do you?"

"No," Harry smiled, "none at all…"

Upstairs in the Gryffindor Tower, a rat was quivering under the bedsheets.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry thought long and hard about Snape's proposal. A guardian of his own – but who? There was no one. Certainly not the Headmaster. The Weasleys had been nice but their family was large and far too noisy.

Snape?

Harry scowled. After the stunt Snape pulled with the inhibitor?

"_But he meant well_," his mental voice told him "_and he apologised_."

"Don't be insane. He will do what he likes anyway, and he will stop seeing past James Potter the moment I have my magic back," Harry argued.

"_Now that he saw you once, he won't be able to_," Inner Voice continued, "_you can sit down with him and explain your wishes. Even sign a contract of a sort_."

"Like he would keep to that if it doesn't suit him. He's a Slytherin, he'll always find ways around any agreement."

"_Then who else is there_?"

"No one. Perhaps the Dursleys weren't so bad after all," Harry mused, "at least with them I know what to expect."

"_Yes, being knocked around and locked up_," Inner Voice said sarcastically, "_that's hardly control over your own life, is it?_"

"I don't have to decide now anyway," Harry shrugged, "I have a year at Hogwarts first."

sssssssssss

"I wonder when the first Hogsmeade weekend will be," Ron's eyes widened at the thought of Honeydukes, "Imagine, Harry, a whole magical town."

"Yeah. You'll have to tell me what it's like," the other boy said morosely, "I can't go. The Dursleys refused to sign my permission form and no one else can."

"What? But you can't miss it! Go ask McGonagall."

"I already did. She says only guardians can sign it. She said that with Sirius Black on the loose, I am better off inside the castle as well."

Ron sighed, grabbing Scabbers who was trying to scurry off the table. At that moment Snape came by and narrowed his eyes, holding lightly to his left forearm.

"Potter. Since you can't do anything useful in class you will come with me now to help me prepare."

"Yes sir," Harry got up and followed Snape out.

"Are you alright, sir? Does your arm hurt?"

The Potions Master sneered at some passing students. "Never mind that, Potter."

Once inside the office, Snape conjured two cups of tea.

"No doubt you will hear this eventually. The Headmaster isn't in favour of telling you this, but I fear leaving you uninformed only increases the risk of you running off doing something potentially dangerous."

Harry began to look offended, and Snape quickly continued. "I am not saying you are out to find trouble, Harry. Only that without the right information, you may well end up in trouble regardless. What do you know about Sirius Black?"

"The murderer that escaped? The guys were talking about how he killed three hundred people with a single curse…"

"That is utterly ridiculous. He was, however, imprisoned after the death of Peter Pettigrew and a dozen or so Muggle bystanders."

"Not convicted?"

"Pardon?" Snape looked up from the cup that he had just been about to sip from.

"You say he was imprisoned. Not that he was convicted."

"One thing you must understand about our Ministry, Harry, is that it functions only marginally better than complete anarchy. Sirius Black never got a trial."

"Then maybe he didn't do it?"

Snape scowled. "Black certainly was capable of murder, he had proven that before. Pettigrew was a weak wizard…and the Muggles certainly didn't curse anyone."

"Weak wizards have desperate moments too," Harry shrugged, "but what does Sirius Black have to do with me?"

Snape sighed. "He is your godfather, Harry, and it is believed he betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord."

"WHAT? Why, if he was their friend? He must have been their friend, right, if he is my godfather?"

"He was, and none of us suspected he would ever betray them. They made him secret keeper…"

At the boy's confused look, Snape explained the Fidelius charm that had been placed on the Potters and their home.

"Sir?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Was that charm ever dispelled?"

Snape looked startled. "Now there's a thought…no…it cannot have been dispelled since the secret keeper hadn't released it…"

"Maybe Black just let it go," Harry suggested.

"Quite unlikely, the charm was still up the next day. Hagrid and Dumbledore had been allowed to enter of course, so you could be taken. But Godrics Hollow itself should still be under Fidelius, then. Not that there is much point now."

"How do other people get in after the charm has been cast? If Pettigrew was a weak wizard, then he probably didn't cast it himself, did he?"

"No, I presume the Headmaster or Lily cast it. The secret keeper has to tell people personally or they won't even be able to see the property," Snape said.

"Oh. Then the Headmaster knows it was Sirius Black because Black had told him."

"Yes…" Snape frowned. "that may be why Black never got a trial, because the Headmaster knew for a fact he is guilty…"

"But in the Muggle world, without a trial and a conviction people can just get out because of a….what do they call it…"

"Miscarriage of justice?"

"Yes. If the Headmaster was so sure, why didn't he have the trial and testify? That would have been much more secure."

"Because Azkaban is guarded by Dementors, the ones that guard the school now. Their presence drives people insane. It is…quite awful…" the Potions Master shivered.

Harry's keen eyes narrowed. "You've been held there, haven't you?"

"That is none of your…" Snape began to snap, before changing his mind.

"Potter…Harry. What I am about to tell you must remain a secret. Completely and utterly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded earnestly.

"When I was seventeen I joined the Dark Lord."

Harry's eyes widened. Snape pulled up his sleeve, the one he'd been rubbing, and showed a very faint mark.

"All of his followers have one. It was his way to call us. I…soon saw my mistake, and went to Dumbledore. To be sent to Azkaban, I thought at first, but the Headmaster told me he needed a spy, and that I could redeem myself that way. I have done that ever since. When Voldemort was defeated, I was arrested and locked up in Azkaban until the Headmaster testified for me, a few months later."

"MONTHS?" Harry asked in horror, "why not immediately?"

Snape smiled sadly. "I thought at first it was because the Ministry was causing trouble. Now I know that he simply meant to teach me a lesson. To remind me where I will be going back to if I disobey him."

"That's not fair," the boy whispered, "not fair at all."

"Life isn't fair, Harry, as you know all too well yourself," Snape leaned back wearily, "do you have any questions?"

"If Sirius Black betrayed them…did you ever see him when you were with Voldemort?"

"No, I didn't. Strange. I presume the Dark Lord kept him as a secret weapon."

"Well, I am not inclined to just believe everything," Harry pronounced, "The Headmaster never tells me the truth, and he has been very mean to you, so how do we know he tells the truth now? Maybe Sirius Black wasn't the secret keeper."

"Now, why would he lie about that, Harry?" Snape asked.

"To put me with the Dursleys," Harry answered, "My godfather would have want to see me, right? He would have seen what the Dursleys do. He would have taken me away."

Snape groaned. "Merlin…he wouldn't…would he?"

He paced the room. "I don't know…but I guess it couldn't hurt…"

Stopping at the fireplace, he threw in a handful of powder. "Remus Lupin!"

A spinning figure emerged and the Defense Professor stepped out. "Yes, Severus?" he enquired mildly.

Then he spotted Harry. "Hello, Harry. Severus, I don't know what you accuse the boy of…"

"Nothing at all, Lupin," Snape growled, before taking a deep breath. "Do sit down and have some tea. We have some questions. Regarding Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."

Lupin looked uneasily at the boy. "I'm not sure…"

"Do you really think Sirius Black betrayed my parents, Professor Lupin?" Harry's large eyes, so much like Lily at that moment, bore into the DADA professor. Snape smirked. The boy was turning on every bit of Slytherin skills he had inside him.

"I – I don't know, Harry. Sirius…well…" here Lupin cast an awkward glance at Snape, "Sirius could be thoughtless…he certainly pulled pranks that were sometimes dangerous…but betrayal, I never thought him capable of that."

"Did anyone tell you where to find Mum and Dad?" Harry asked.

"No – I never knew where they went in hiding. I guess…guess they didn't trust me," Lupin bit his lip, "I did ask Sirius but he wouldn't tell me."

"He refused to tell you?" Snape asked.

"Well, no, he claimed he couldn't tell me, but I know Dumbledore insisted on him being the secret keeper."

Snape closed his eyes, walked back to the floo and again tossed in powder.

"HAGRID!"

The huge man stepped inside.

"Hagrid, who told you where to find Harry when you went to retrieve him?"

"Little Peter Pettigrew did, before he went after Sirius Black," Hagrid said, "why?"

Both Lupin and Snape paled significantly.

sssssssssss

"But why aren't we going to do anything?" Harry sulked.

"Because we cannot prove anything, and Black still killed a dozen innocent bystanders, however commendable his intent," Snape answered.

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe Pettigrew did."

"Even so, it is impossible to prove. We will just have to wait."

The boy nodded. Lupin and Hagrid had returned to their own quarters, each with their own thoughts and doubts. The first seeds were sown, Snape thought, soon enough people would be suspicious of the Headmaster, the Ministry and everything surrounding it.

"Professor?"

"Yes Harry?"

"I'm still angry over that inhibitor. But you've been really nice."

"Thank you. I will not do something like that again, but if you start spreading rumors that I am nice I will personally make sure you clean the Owlery floor with your own toothbrush."


	6. Chapter 6

Despite doubt having been cast over Sirius Black's guilt, Snape couldn't help but notice some problems.

First, Black had yet to be found. Which was quite an obstacle if they intended to hear his side of the story.

Secondly, if Peter Pettigrew was still alive, no one knew where he was either. He had a suspicion Lupin knew more than he was letting on, but he had been strictly forbidden from harassing 'poor Remus'. Too bad that adding Veritaserum to the Wolfsbane would kill the werewolf before he would be able to question him.

Thirdly – he doubted that even if Pettigrew was found and Black declared innocent that he would be able to take in Harry. Black had never been the most mature person in the school – Severus snorted to himself – and Azkaban may or may not have improved it. Either way, he was bound to have issues of his own and not a suitable guardian for an abused and traumatized young teen.

Harry seemed willing to believe in Black's innocence, and while the boy had given good, logically sound reasons for doubting the judgment made so many years ago, he feared that much of Harry's enthusiasm came from the hope that his godfather would be willing to take him in. After two years of hostility and the inhibitor fiasco, Harry would never consider his Potions Master for the position.

Snape frowned. Where did that thought come from? It wasn't like he WANTED to be Harry's guardian…come to think of it, what ever happened to 'Potter'?

"Bloody paradigm shifts," he muttered angrily.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of old age, Severus," came the voice of the Transfigurations Professor from behind him.

"Minerva," he acknowledged.

"You have a lot to think about these days, haven't you?" she continued kindly.

Snape sighed and nodded. "Most of it not exactly pleasant," he admitted.

"Do you want to tell me?"

The wizard frowned. "I doubt you wish to hear it. You would only end up yelling at me."

McGonagall took his elbow and steered him towards her quarters. "Try me."

She sat him down on the sensible, yet comfortable couch in her quarters and set to ordering some tea.

"Harry Potter," Snape muttered, "I had to admit to myself that I have been blind all this time, which is not a pleasant experience."

"Being wrong never is," the witch smiled as she handed him his cup of tea, "but we all are from time to time. You have no more wronged Harry than I have wronged you when you were young."

A shadow played over her face. "I too let my prejudices take over my better judgment."

Snape smiled at her. "You tried, later on," he said fondly, "I heard what kind of dressing down you gave Black and Potter after that OWL afternoon in fifth year."

"Yet you were punished for the hex, and they were not," Minerva sighed, "it was one of those occasions where I doubted if Albus is really suited for this job."

The wizard hesitated. "I have noticed…a disturbing tendency in the Headmaster to…disregard certain circumstances if they do not suit his plans."

McGonagall sat down. "He is very used to knowing best, giving advice instead of receiving it. He lacks peers, I think. Even I only know him as an elderly, frighteningly powerful wizard – he was eighty, I think, already when I started Hogwarts. The peers he does have are in awe of him – Elphias Doge nearly worships the ground the walks on. Even Griselda Marchbanks, who is actually his senior, speaks only of his great talents. The only one to oppose him, in the first war, was Aberforth but that is often dismissed as sibling rivalry – even if they are over a century and a half old! Sometimes I wonder. Aberforth grew up with Albus, he knows him better than any of us…"

"Including the less…savoury sides of his character," Snape understood.

"It may be worthwhile to listen to him," Minerva nodded.

sssssssssssssss

Finally, after what seemed like forever to Harry the three weeks were done. He noticed it immediately, that night after dinner – the inhibitor circlet emerged from his skin and lay loosely on his head.

Snape had expected Harry to come in. The three weeks were up and he doubted the boy would have forgotten that little fact. So when after dinner, a knock came on his office door, he didn't have to check his wards to know who it was.

"Enter."

Harry walked in and held the circlet out to him. "It just came off," he explained.

"It is supposed to," Snape nodded, "the timer in the inhibitor apparently still works flawlessly."

Then he studied the boy. Of course, over the past three weeks the bruises had almost completely disappeared, but there were still the vivid red scars, and the faint yellow lingering about his eye.

"Your appearance has not changed," he noted.

Harry shrugged. "It's kinda pointless, isn't it, to hide it now? Everyone already saw. My magic didn't feel the need to hide it anymore."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologise."

"You said that already," Harry remarked, "it's ok. I mean, it is horrible that everyone saw, but you were ni…erm, decent to me since I got here."

Moving to sit behind his desk, Snape pretended to grade an essay. "There are times when we must admit that the preconceived notions we held are not entirely correct."

Harry took a moment to decipher this statement, then smirked. "It takes courage to change," he remarked, "one could believably argue that a person capable of admitting that former prejudices were incorrect, is exhibiting almost…Gryffindor properties."

Snape's head shot up. "What?!?!?"

Then he noticed the smirk and his eyes narrowed.

"I suppose one could argue such, but I daresay the person holding that view finds himself in grave danger of having to scour the Owlery floor with a previously mentioned dental appliance…"

"Well it's a good thing no one used that argument, then," Harry said calmly.

"Brat."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have you given any more thought to the guardianship issue?"

With a tired sigh, Harry shook his head. "There is no one," he admitted, "maybe my godfather if he is innocent."

Snape hesitated. "Harry…."

He sat the boy down on the couch and took the chair opposite. "Harry, if your godfather spent twelve years innocent in Azkaban, it is a miracle if he even is sane. I doubt he will be in any condition to raise a child. I don't say that to discourage you," he added when he saw the boy's face fall, "but you must be prepared for the eventuality."

"So I'll have to go back to the Dursleys," Harry concluded sadly.

"I did not say that," Snape retorted, "even if by the end of the year we find no suitably guardian, you will not go back. It will be a bit more difficult, but we will manage."

ssssssss

That night Severus made his way to the Hog's Head. At that time the pub was completely empty except for a few chronic drunks. The piercing blue eyes of the bartender unnerved him, they were so like the Headmaster's, but the face certainly wasn't. No benevolent, condescending, all-knowing smile. Instead hard lines and a sceptic pulling of a corner of the mouth beneath the beard.

"Aberforth Dumbledore?" Severus asked just to be sure.

"The one and only," the man replied, "Severus Snape."

"Indeed," Snape drawled.

"My brother's sending his lackey, then? What does he want?"

Snape sat down at the bar. "No longer a lackey, I think, and he doesn't know I am here."

Aberforth studied him intently for long moments, and although Snape knew he was not using Legilimency, his secrets were drawn from him all the same.

"Slipping your leash, are you?" the man growled approvingly, "about time some of you did."

"I owe much to the Headmaster," Snape said with a shrug, "for a long time I thought gratitude meant doing his bidding without question."

"But not anymore," Aberforth concluded, "good boy. Now, what can I do for you?"

"We are concerned about the Headmasters dealings with Harry Potter," Severus frowned, "the boy has been abused by his relatives. We have reason to believe Albus knew, did nothing and still intends to send the boy back to them. Furthermore, we are looking for Sirius Black. There are doubts about his guilt, now that the people involved have put together all the facts. We must hear his side of the story."

The bartender smiled. "That was about time, too. I always thought it suspicious, and Albus wouldn't hear of getting the boy a proper trial. I am surprised that you are pushing for it – you're not exactly best friends."

"For Harry's sake," Severus sighed, "I doubt he will be a suitable guardian for the boy, but he is still his godfather. If Black is innocent, Harry will want to get to know him."

The steady gaze of the old man nearly made him squirm. "I…was forced to…reconsider some of my opinions of the boy," he admitted.

"Many changes," Aberforth remarked.

"Yes. Admitting I am wrong is not my strongest quality…but my relationship with Harry is much more amiable now…much easier to see Lily in him."

Aberforth frowned a little, but let whatever it was he wanted to say pass. "Alright, lad, I believe you are on the level. I'll help however I can. First, I can teach you some of Albus's dirty tricks for circumventing Occlumency shields with his Legilimency…"

"Black's been sighted nearby," McGonagall said a few days later.

"So I heard," her youngest colleague responded calmly, "Keep an eye on Lupin, Minerva. He knows more than he's letting on."

To his surprise, the witch nodded. "I noticed that. It is time we make him divulge his secrets. I hope you are also keeping an eye on Harry?"

"Harry knows not to go out and confront Black on his own, if Black ever is on the school grounds."

"He is also thirteen years old and unused to adult supervision," McGonagall pointed out, "it's not that I don't trust Harry, but they can be so unpredictable at that age."

"Aberforth is also keeping an eye out," Snape lowered his voice, "There's no reason to worry."

Famous last words…


End file.
